


Pain and Yearning

by Niphredilien



Series: Fëanorian Week 2021 [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta'd, But Mainly Love At This Point, F/M, Love/Hate, Mourning Clothes, absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, re-embodiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-26 12:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niphredilien/pseuds/Niphredilien
Summary: Nerdanel has made this walk four hundred and ninety-nine times before.“Five hundred time’s the charm,” She mutters to herself as she makes her way up the mountain road.Nerdanel will save her family: however ill-advised the endeavour is.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: Fëanorian Week 2021 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203863
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	Pain and Yearning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> For the last day of Fëanorian Week, I chose the prompt Reunion. A bit of fluffy angst to end the week off. I am definitely doing this again - I loved writing all these stories!
> 
> As for the rest of the series, I have started a new long story (Heart and Hearth) on Finwë's life. I plan to write Gondolin Week in this AU (although, it depends upon when my tests are and how much studying I'll need to do - I would have liked to have had the prompts earlier so I could have written the stories in the Spring Holidays, but it is what it is and I understand why the prompts won't be released). I will - I promise! - one day finish Fate and Flowers. I also have a few other fics lined up such as one that focuses on Rinwendë (Curufin's wife), one on Amras re-Bragollach but post Mithrim and of course one on the revised tale of Beren and Lúthien.
> 
> Thank you to [oliviacat3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacat3/pseuds/oliviacat3) for beta’ing.
> 
> And I hope you enjoy!

| Reunion |

Nerdanel has made this walk four hundred and ninety-nine times before.

“Five hundred time’s the charm,” She mutters to herself as she makes her way up the mountain road.

The first time, she had been furious. Furious and angry and completely unsure as to why she was doing this.

But done it she had.

It had been early morning, a few months after the sun had first risen, barely two hours since the height of moon. She had woken and lain there for a long time before some invisible compulsion had tugged her out of bed and to the cupboard.

She had put on her mourning clothes – the first dress and veil she had been made for the purpose – created hastily in the aftermath of the Darkening. It showed in the visible seams, the unfinished edges and the simplicity of a gown that would have otherwise been masterfully created.

It was an unfamiliar dress for an unfamiliar world but she wears it now.

It is floor length, covering her sensible work boots, and far looser than her usual clothes and it is white, edged in black, far different from her usual greens and browns. Her red hair, too, is covered by a similarly designed veil that hangs down to her midback. Her pale skin is accented in this dress, making her ghostly and oddly ethereal.

She had grimaced to herself in the mirror before that same compulsion whispered an idea into her head.

She had dismissed it the first time but it kept coming back until, three days later, she caved into it, redonning her mourning garb and riding to Taniquetil.

She had left her horse at the foot of the mountain and climbed until she reached the Máhanaxar.

The Valar were already waiting for her, sitting upon their great seats. Everything became inconsequential while under their gaze – her anger, her confusion, her misery, were all distant and muffled, like a scream heard from under water.

Everything, that is, but that one little voice in her head.

She had risen her head high and in a voice that did not tremble, said;

“I would like my husband back, please.”

Words, arguments, debates – she had them with the Valar.

Every year on that day, she would dress in her mourning clothes and climb to the Ring of Doom, and tell the Valar that she wanted Fëanáro back.

Every year, without fail.

And here she is for the five hundredth time.

The Valar are not waiting for her like they usually are – the great thrones are empty, rising around the centre of the circle in giant, looming pillars, making the small figure in the centre of the ring appear even smaller.

She stops short.

That is…it can’t…

She does not know if she even wanted her request to be fulfilled and yet here it is. The fruit of her labours, bowed down in a small heap in the centre of her sight.

“Fëanáro…” She breathes and it echoes around in the empty air. The figure twitches and raises its head.

It _is_ him.

She crosses the ground at a run, skidding down to the floor beside him.

She takes his face in her hands – and he is certainly real and warm beneath her touch – examining his eyes for a sign of that madness that brought them apart.

She cannot see it.

She also cannot see the fire in his soul which she fell in love with.

“N’rd’n’l?” Fëanáro’s eyes can’t quite focus on her as he slurs his words. Fëanáro never slurs his words – he always makes a point to make his pronunciation perfect.

“Yes, idiot. Who else would it be?”

“‘s not her,” He mumbles, his eyes flickering unsettlingly. “Nerd’nel hates me.”

“I do. I did. I still do a bit. But I also love you, you stupid, stupid nér.”

“Y’ sound quite like ‘er.”

“That’s because it is me. Don’t be obtuse, Fëanáro. I am no figment of your imagination.” She brushes a stray lock of hair behind Fëanáro’s ear, sitting him up in a bit more of a comfortable position. She keeps one hand on his cheek and the other goes to support his waist.

“Th’t’s what a figm’nt ‘f m‘magination would say.”

She huffs irritably. “I did not climb this accursed mountain five hundred times just for you to not realise what is blindingly obvious and true.”

“N’rd’nel would do that. She’s slightly crazy. ‘t’s why I love ‘er.” He gives her a sort of grin and Nerdanel has to physically stop herself from melting on the spot because she _loves_ that grin.

“I am a bit crazy. One has to be to deal with you and your utterly _ridiculous_ family.”

Fëanáro’s face falls and he leans his cheek into her touch. “‘m sorry N’rd’nel. I made some terrible m’stakes.”

“They were horrible,” She agrees.

She is trying to hate him – she _should_ be hating him, for all that he is done – but he is being so sincere, so honest and open, and he looks frankly pathetic, it is a rather difficult thing to do.

“Terrible.”

“Atrocious.”

“Disastr’s.”

“Abhorrent.”

“Mm.” He closes his eyes, looking exhausted. “It really ‘s you.”

“Yes. I said so. Would I lie to you?”

“No.” He sighs gently. “I want to ‘pologise.”

His eyes still can’t quite focus on hers and he has begun to shake. Nerdanel takes pity on him.

“Leave that until later, dear. I should like a sincere apology when you can speak without slurring your words together, thank you.”

Fëanáro nods tiredly. “An’th’ng, ‘starn’ë.”

Istarnië. She hasn’t heard her amilessë in a long time.

She gently lies Fëanáro’s head in her lap, stroking his hair as he falls into a half sleep. There will be time for being angry later when he will actually be able to understand every word she says and there is no risk that he will just forget.

And then he can give her a proper apology.

She sits there for a moment longer before the familiar feeling of the Valar examining her trickles across her skin.

She looks up.

Manwë stares down at her as if to say _we have done as you have requested. Is it what you wanted?_

She swallows as the little voice returns.

She sets back her shoulders and meets Manwë’s full, cryptic gaze.

“And the rest of my family?” She asks as imperiously as she can manage.

**Author's Note:**

> Non-Canon Names:  
> Istarnië - Wise Woman (Quenya)
> 
> Quenya Translations:  
> Nér - Male Elf  
> Amilessë - Mother Name


End file.
